Freshman Three Stone
by Aris24
Summary: For a prompt: Could I have a young Mycroft coming home from college like three stone heavier, please? and he knows he's going to be in huge trouble? Absolutely! Weight gain, chubby!mycroft, fat character, trouble with trousers.


_**Prompt: Could I have a young Mycroft coming home from college like three stone heavier, please? and he knows he's going to be in huge trouble?**__ Ask and ye shall receive! Hope I managed Mycroft alright.  
_

Mycroft tugged at his trousers fruitlessly one last time. He let out the breath he had been holding in and his stomach, well, more aptly, his _belly_ spilled out once more. This was going to go very poorly with father.

It had to be because of his exams, Mycroft thought ruefully. He had spent a grand majority of the past two weeks sat amongst his books and papers. There seemed to be fresh packets of biscuits or crisps every day, complementary to students as they worked. It didn't help that the kitchen was adjacent to the library and foody smells seemed determined to trickle in constantly, rousing craving after craving until he was snacking nearly non-stop. Stress too, that's what it was. Of course by the time the exams actually came around, Mycroft found he had sorely misjudged the institution. Any imbecile could have managed them.

He ended up finishing each exam with more than half the allotted test time to spare and full marks. He decided he could afford an early tea and biscuits in that case.

Now however, he could plainly see what his recent indulgences had meant for his middle. He simply hadn't thought about it. His metabolism had always seemed to manage any stress eating he might fall prey to. That had ended with his entry into university, his natural daily expenditures suddenly seeming to halve. The weight had piled on. He hadn't noticed really, he didn't give much thought to his trousers fitting more snugly day to day. But then had come Christmas holiday and it became all to apparent that a change had come over his physique. Mother, dear mother, had managed to mask her shock, but he did notice that the biscuit tin seemed to mysteriously keep gravitating away from him. As did the richer of the dishes at dinner as he sat squashed in fine clothes that were at least two sizes too small for him. It had been mortifying. Especially sitting next to Sherlock, now looking even more whippet thin than when Mycroft had left. Then his father had taken him aside, and they'd had a talk about dieting.

Mycroft sniffed in disgust and threw himself back on the bed to kick off his old trousers, belly rolling and jiggling with his motions as his plump thighs worked furiously. He couldn't even get them up to his hips. And even then, there was honestly no way they would have buttoned. He scowled at the ceiling, hands moving down to rest on the rounded mound his belly had become. And they would notice. And his father would have another exceedingly dull talk about dieting once again.

He sighed and looked down, trying to gauge the extent of the gain by walking his fingers along it. Well, and his thighs had thickened too as his trousers had pointed out. His hips and bum. Even his chest and arms seemed softer. So... a stone by Christmas, likely another two by now. A grand total of three. Oh sod it all...

Mycroft grunted and rolled off the bed, then pulled on his school uniform again. Those clothes still fit, though the buttons were beginning to strain. He gave himself a long look in the mirror, poking at the new lip of pudge poking out over his waist band, what some might call a muffin top. His family would be endlessly disappointed until he rid himself of that again. Tedious. As if there weren't better ways to spend the time than exercise and diet. He huffed, watching his belly expand, then decided there was nothing he could do now. They would notice regardless and he couldn't lose two stone in a day's time. He gave up on packing and pulled a Mars bar from his bedside drawer, chewing it moodily as he quickly flicked through all the possible conversations and reactions he would get when he got home. Maybe he should just shut himself up in his room. Pretend to be busy so they can't pester him. Yes... He picked another chocolate bar and ate that just as quickly, the taste and texture soothing as it filled his mouth. Maybe he could even have a word with a professor and stay at the university over the summer, either studying or interning... yes. That would alleviate the tedium of a summer at home, help to advance his career.

And the food was better here anyway.


End file.
